A rebel without a clue.

Aligning the inner and outer purpose. Doing and being in one. Out of unconscious ego thoughts and actions Awakened doing and being Consciousness Acceptance, enthusiasm and enjoyment. * This morning I left the Leeds Mind Housing Service, for which I had self referred myself in September last. It will be better if I accept Wetherby as my home on the earth. Home is a state of mind. The service in Leeds is too centralised - or is Wetherby not part of Leeds MDC . There is no escaping my mind on many occasions, i.e. the trauma of Friday and Saturday when I discovered my mother was in denial about some events in her relationship with my father. But he's been dead so long now how is it I allow him to raise his head from the rivers he is distributed in: Swan, Wharfe and Yarra? But at least 75% of the time I can operate without unbalancing the pH neutrality. Discharging myself means there is also one less reason to scuttle off to Leeds every couple of weeks. If only I move across th...

Why does she always watch telly - ghosts, serial killers, rapist and mediums? Another Day. The Departments from east to west will be Bouches du Rhône, Gard and Hérault; and Aude, Tarn or Aveyron to aim to be in Rodez for the flight back. The Good Retreat Guide refers to a few possible locale to sleep, but I think I am putting too much planning into this walk? It can't be necessary because I've managed a lot more and with less clues to where I was hoping to reach. Plus the weather will be better than the previous two occasions. My main intentions should only be dictated by what happens at the airport on the other side because if I get to Arles then that would be my first etape. The Chemin, which ever one I am on, will offer a sensible option each day. No matter how many times I fail, I will not stop trying. Sunday night. Quiet, Echkart Tolle and back to the breath.

The message has been broadcast forever, by different entities. Being in harmony between ourselves and everything else is the only means of truly arriving at the truth in all the world. An individual cannot be in a proper relationship with everything unless he release all notions, factors, forms, labels. Honour the space within the place, because here we are all One (day in and night out). Be more one in ten and not the forgotten nine. Learn to die and surely then we will become alive.

Hesitating no more I decided to hitch back to Wetherby West Yorkshire. Crossed the Esk and stood outside the Spar. Five minutes later - flashing my hastily drawn sign to York - David reverses at tells me he can take me as far as Pickering. We discuss my flight into and out of insanity. Walking and getting to grips with depression, Asperger's and ADHD (post traumatic stress disorder, dissociate disorder, etc). But in Pickering people are no neck nercs, and they squint at me as if I were the son. No I am not the Messiah! Not another commercial radio station! Why are you so thoughtless and insane with your mad chatter? With your cheesy, pointless adverts telling locals how to get stuff locally - D'oh - they don't need any of it because all business is the same business - the spring step of the devil! I hate thee radio! It is such a sinister whisper in the ear forever forcing a singular dimension onto the spaciously infinite. Music doesn't need a marble fireplace to glori...

Once upon a time ... There was a little boy who didn't look like, sound like or feel like all the other boys and girls he'd been in class with all his life: they didn't like him and used to call him names all the time, but he didn't know what to say or do to make them stop; even when they hurt him they never listened. Then he would feel very sorry that no one wanted to be his friend and only wanted to make fun of him all the time. If he ever tried to say "stop it" he just ended up really really upset because something didn't work properly in his head and got so confused. Some days he would sit and cry all day because nothing he did made any difference. The teacher were all equally mean to him because they often made him do things which he could not understand and they never explained things - or when things were fun would they suddenly clap their hands and tell the class to stop what they were doing and to pay attention to the front of the class. If they ...

So tired. Crashed out - my body is still churning over that sickness begotten at Porto Pizza. But I have ended today back at St Oswald's Pastoral Centre on the left bank of the Eskdale Valley, just outside Sleights, around 4 miles from the North Sea. Now I am in the Hillside self-catering block. The previous visit was my 43rd birthday on the 2nd February when it snowed heavily and I was forced to walk down to here from Fylingdales. It is somewhat tranquillity today: the distant sound of a prop plane, the hoot-choochoo of a steam locomotive, a very far away sawing or strimming and the call of a mighty bull in the field. The Centre is busy with a gardening retreat - keeping this plot pristine, godly, manicured; "surely I have made this only Eden yet more perfectly ordered that it pleases you to let me into Heaven?" - which must be a land of perpetual clearing, cleaning, arranging, straightening, weed killer, slug pellets and cups of tea. While I accept food is a necessit...

Why does everything I have just done suddenly feel utterly meaningless, void, trivial? Even as I crossed from the Nidderdale AONB into The Yorkshire Dales National Park, coming down from the hills and walking about Grassington, suicide crossed my mind at such an heroic achievement? An achievement for sure, but it makes zero difference as people still eat ice creams, toasted teacakes, their eyes are blankly vision free, I guess in heaven I will feel no sorrow? First night in Whitby, slept peacefully until I was awoken by projectile vomiting followed by piss water from my rear orifice. Had two normal beers (Whitby Brewery Saltwick Nab) at the Dolphin, entertaining a couple from Netherlands and Derbyshire with talk of Frikandel , crossed over the swing bridge with a thought I might go to the Coop next to the station for evening grits. But like the unthinking fool I sometimes am the Whitby kebab/pizza takeaway (Porto Pizza) was calling me - good protein for a long walk I thought. One chic...